


Out of the Shadows

by orphan_account



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: "jacket au", Alternate Universe, Angst, Feels, Feelsgasm, M/M, Sacha can't feels, sads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:17:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running from his past, Sacha's return from his deployment in the military has brought with it the burdens of things left behind. Now he must resurrect his relationship with his oldest friend that he left behind in the colonies, but it carries with it much more complexity and danger than he has forseen. Will he ever be able to earn the forgiveness he seeks through the shadows of his past?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [Ursaborea](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursaborea/pseuds/Ursaborea) and [Myshka](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Myska/pseuds/Myshka) for giving me feedback and helping me edit!!
> 
> I am using my favorite fanon names for Cain and Deimos (Sacha and Aleks.) 
> 
> Russian translations/phonetic pronunciations are located in the footnotes.

 

It had been four long years in the military. Four long years, and Sacha was free—if you could call it that. If you thought about it as getting a nice, long break from the art of cheating death on a daily basis, it qualified.

He ended up back on the Colonies, despite growing a strong bond with his Navigator in service. Ethan, he was from Earth—one of those rich clones everyone expects A+ results out of, almost as if they were pure-bred for the cause. Sacha wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. But Ethan was the best, and so was he, respective jobs done in a stellar manner, making the service proud, not that Sacha cared. For him it was the thrill of the fight that mattered, flying, shooting, surviving, fucking. Nothing else permeated his life for those four long, adrenaline-filled years…and he sucked it all up like it was crack.

Regardless, he thought he felt something for Ethan when all that was over, and the navi insisted on coming to live on the colonies with him. Anything’s better than living with family he said. Anything’s better than returning to a dying home world and forced to live in an enviro-bubble city filled with lies. Ethan couldn’t stand to go back to that place, to live inside something that the world was not, to live on a dying planet, and know it was humanity’s fault.

And so, Ethan was on the transport with him, babbling on about how great it will be to finally get a fresh start, already looking up possible jobs available on his portable tablet before they’d even taken off.

If only he knew.  
  
When Sacha stepped into the Colony’s main spaceport though, fresh off the Alliance transport, bags in hand, he felt something settle on his shoulders. His past was back there, in his subconscious, returning from a very much forced vacation, and Sacha was by no means welcoming it with open arms.

 

***

 

“Mmn,” Sacha exhaled slow, feeling soft lips trailing down his neck as he pushed, heart pounding, bodies sweating, rolling into each other like the lazy Martian tide. Sacha’s mind was racing, though, unable to concentrate on the pale, light-haired man before him, the one he was trying to please, because instead his mind kept straying to feelings of guilt about the one he fought so hard to forget whilst clinging to his memory like a life raft.

“Baby, baby… I can’t do this right now…” He was shaking his head, moving away, moving off, unable to work like he used to, pretend that nothing was wrong. He rolled onto his back, forearm draped across his brow, keeping the blonde out of his vision while he exhaled deep and slow.

“Sacha… what’s wrong?” The inquiry came light and gentle, the way Ethan always was. Sometimes sickeningly patient.

It was hard enough for Sacha to get things out, and with the context of right then….he was surprised he uttered anything at all.  
  
“I just… I can’t stop thinking about….someone.” It was embarrassing to admit. He knew Ethan could tell there’d been something on his mind for a while now, and to be truthful, it had been on his mind from the second he stepped off that transport. It had been five months since that day. Now it had just stagnated in his mind along with the guilt, for so long that it was diminishing his affections for Ethan.

“Someone here?” Light patterns were being traced on his shoulder.

“Yeah, a kid, from the orphanage I grew up in.”

“Were you close? As close as we are?”

Sacha paused, sighed. His voice was but a soft murmur. “I don’t know.”

He paused again. “It was a long time ago.”

A brief pause was all it took to make Sacha realize how far he’d pushed the memory.

Ethan’s fingers kept moving , comforting as always. “Tell me about him.”

Sacha swallowed, unsure of where Ethan’s request was aimed…but he indulged anyway.

“He…was a year younger than me. Shorter, too… would always get sick all the time. Always hangin around me ever since I… ever since I saved his ass. I called him Myshonok… it means ‘little mouse,’ cause he was so tiny and quiet all the time. Hardly ever talked. Really good at sneaking.”  
  
The memory brought a smile and chuckle to his lips as he reveled in it, realizing he missed his friend more than he’d thought. The smile faded just as quickly as it appeared when he continued.  
  
“I made him a promise…stupid, stupid of me. I said I’d wait for both of us to be old enough so we could leave together…But I didn’t wait. Couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Sacha was expecting those words out of Ethan’s mouth before he said them.

“I got myself involved in some shit that I shouldn’t. The Bratva…I was desperate, didn’t know what to do. So I ran. Left him all alone. Even when I told him I wouldn’t. Promised.” He was speaking through clenched teeth, hands balled into fists with white knuckles, not even realizing how much pain those memories contained. Sacha took a moment to remember all of the things he’d promised that mouse—too many to count. What a stupid word, so easy to misuse, to look over the meaning of.

Sacha’s forearm shifted as he felt the pressure of the mattress next to him rise. Ethan sat up, rubbing his shoulder, back turned to Sacha but head still turned towards him, one large dark eye viewing him from profile. “You should go to him.”  
  
Sacha started, sitting up quickly, eyes wide and brows shooting up his forehead. “No, Ethan, it’s not like that—I mean--,”

Ethan just shook his head. “Look, Sacha…You’re not gonna feel any better just sitting around here, moping about it. It’s not gonna stop bothering you till you do something about it.” He got up, picking his discarded clothes up off the floor, a ghost of the passionate flurry that had taken place only a few minutes ago. He quickly slipped back into his jeans, not even making an effort to zip the fly. He turned back around and caught Sacha’s eyes.

Sacha could only look at him with a blank expression, gaze unfocused as he contemplated what all that would incur.

“It’s fine, Sacha.” Ethan tried a small smile. “I know you’re never gonna stop thinking about it. At least go see him. Then….Come back here once you’ve sorted things out. Let me know how it goes, if that will help.” He walked over to Sacha, hips swaying slightly. A soft, pale hand brushed his shoulder, the apple of his cheek, brushing his mess of blue-streaked bangs this or that way, trying to sort them out.

“Okay.” Sacha’s voice came out in a low, soft murmur. A gratuitious smile blossomed, something rare from Sacha. “Thanks for talking my head on straight. I can always count on you to do that, huh?”

 

***

 

The trek through the city to the slums was somewhat of a refresher, a drag back to the bleak reality of what living in the Colonies meant. Sacha hadn’t forgotten the bitter stench of dried-up acid rain that permeated the streets and alleys, keeping any vegetation that might’ve weeded deep in the contaminated soil. Another unfortunate side effect of the rain was natural selection, allowing the most resilient of pests to breed in hordes, unimpeded by any weaker competition.

A rat the size of his forearm skittered across his path, missing his feet by inches, warranting a curse from the exhausted man. Sacha had decided to travel on foot, something about being home requiring him to walk through the putrid streets, take in the homeless and orphaned milling about in alleys, lost and without purpose. A couple kids, every exposed inch of skin smeared with dirt, clothes in rags, were poking a nest of rats with sticks, finding thrill with the danger of being bitten. Pitiful, weak, unenlightened to what real life was like, might never be. He was like that, once.

His heavy footsteps came to a halt in front of an unmarked apartment building. He remembered it well, used to walk past it every day on the way to and from the orphanage. He thought about visiting it for a moment, then brushed the thought away, suddenly terrified of seeing himself in one of those hopeless kids.

He turned and walked down the alley, suddenly curious to see if his and Aleks’ hiding place was still in use. He stopped when he saw it; a gap in the dirt-tan bricks that made up the apartment complex. He counted three bricks down from the gap, wiggled once, the block pulling free with a cloud of dust and grain. He stuck his hand in the space that had been revealed and felt slippery fingers close around his heart when his palm grazed a key. He pulled it out, looking it over, wondering if Aleks had left it there for four years and five months, just waiting, preparing for Sacha’s return. These old apartment complexes, used for the poorest of families, still used mechanical keys. It left Sacha with a feeling of nostalgia twined with sadness.

He shrugged off the thought, using the key to enter the building through the backdoor, climbing the stairs to the level that the directory databank had listed as Aleks’ residence. He counted one, two, three doors on the right—and he was there. Hesitation gripped him as he held the key in his hand, hovering just an inch from the lock, feeling lead fill his shoes as he tried to contemplate what he was about to do.

He changed his mind and rapped on the door twice. Waited. Ten seconds, twenty, thirty, a minute. Nothing happened, so he knocked again. Same deal. He sucked the back of his teeth in a “Tch,” and shoved the key in the lock, gears gliding fluidly as he turned it.

He opened the door a crack, peering in, seeing an ordinary-looking apartment on the other side of the cheap plywood door. Cautiously, he stepped inside, daring not to make a sound, closing the door softly behind him. It was small, but not cramped; the door opened directly into the common room, with a kitchen and small eating area off to the right, and beyond that, a closed door that must lead to the bed and bathroom.

Sacha crept carefully over to the door and realized it was open just a crack. He nudged it open wide enough to see Aleks, apparently asleep on the cheap-looking bed, his stomach flush with the bedding and his head turned away from the door. Sacha’s brows drew together as he noticed Aleks was fully clothed with an arm dangling limply off the side of the bed, legs splayed with a slight bend to the knees. It looked as if he’d just landed there, haphazardly, not giving a care in the world whether it was the most comfortable position or not.

His nerves eased a tad, Sacha withdrew and found himself sitting on the couch, waiting for Aleks to wake, despite the fact that it was nearly 22:00 and he’d probably turned in for the night. A painful yawn escaped Sacha’s mouth and his eyelids drooped, and before he knew it, he was sideways on the couch, a light snoring reminiscent of a purring cat signaling his rest. 

 

***

 

By the time Sacha woke, it was light in the apartment, crooked lines of light spilling across the floor from makeshift blinds . He could feel the aches from the long trek through the city filling his muscles as he shifted, nearly bolting upright as he felt a weight around his body, and realized he’d been draped with blankets. He cracked his eyes open, a square of paper catching his eye, placed next to a full glass of water on the coffee table across from him. He reached for the note lazily, picking it up to read “Саща”. He flipped it over to find a message on the back.

" _Went to get food. Be back in one hour."_ It was written in the same familiar handwriting he'd known from four years ago, in Russian. It had been too long since he’d read anything in his native language, save for the signs in the spaceport and on the roads, painted on buildings above shops and stores. It was nice to read an actual note, written by a person, addressed to him. Aleks had apparently remembered their agreement upon time stamping notes so that they could always look out for each other. This one read "0842."

Sacha let his head fall back onto the couch. He let out a relieved sigh before wondering what time it was. He looked around and found an old digital clock on the counter-- it read 1100.

Sacha felt his heart jump. He sat up abruptly, cursing as his body protested with sharp pains in his side. Aleks' note said he'd be back in an hour, but it had been more than double that amount of time. Although Sacha hadn't seen Aleks for over four years, he still felt the same tug of worry he had when Aleks had been late before. He’d shoved the memory so far back in his mind that the only thing that came forth was a vague tug of panic.

He tried to stand up from the couch, only to cringe and feel his legs turn to jelly beneath him. He cursed when he remembered he'd left his cell at Ethan’s. He had no idea what he should do; he remembered the places Aleks might have gone for food four years ago, but those were guaranteed to have changed after so much time.

He had no idea where Aleks could be right now.

He jumped as he heard a light scuffling noise coming from behind him. He snapped his head around, relief washing over him as he saw Aleks silently enter through the kitchen window.

His brows furrowed at the strange and unusual point of entry, but it was only a brief reaction as he was flooded with relief. "A-- Aleks!" he choked, his throat dry and voice more gravelly than usual from the previous day’s exertion. "Where the hell were you? The note said you'd be back in an hour!"

Aleks just looked at him, expressionless, then threw the bag of groceries on the counter and turned away from him, shrugging his jacket off.

"Took longer than expected," He replied in Russian. Sacha felt his mouth twitch with annoyance with himself when he remembered Aleks didn't speak English well. How could he have forgotten?

He watched Aleks take off his jacket, his eyes widening when he saw a streak of bright red across his arm. "Aleks, what the hell is that?" He pushed himself up from the couch, ignoring the pain, and stumbled over to Aleks, grabbing him by the arm a little too rough.

Sacha took a step back as the lean muscles of Aleks’ arm flexed and it was yanked from his grasp, those cold blue eyes turning to glare at him. "Not mine. The hell do you care, anyway?"

Sacha just stared at him for a few moments, his face adorned with an idiotic expression of shock and rejection. What the hell was his problem?

"The fuck happened to you?" Aleks spat. "That guy turn you soft or some shit? Can't believe you'd walk in here looking like dog-shit." There was a strong bite to his words, nearly running together as he walked to the counter and started putting the groceries away, back turned to Sacha, arms moving jerkily as he tried to control his anger.

"What the hell? How do you know about Ethan?" Sacha twitched, in the back of his mind already knowing the answer before he even finished blurting the question out. Aleks knew his way around the city like the back of his hand, always had, it was foolish of Sacha to think his secret wouldn’t be discovered even for a second, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, no matter how careful he had been. Aleks was always there, and he was always going to be there, watching from the shadows.

"Tch," Aleks shook his head. “Don't act like a dumb shit." He threw down the rest of the groceries, becoming increasingly irritated, instead turning the sink on to wash the crimson off his arm.

Aleks’ brash dismissal of Sacha’s concern was like a spitting image of how he used to be. Aleks had transformed into the kid Sacha was before the service, one so aggressive and impulsive that insults flowed like streams and rivers. And to contrast, this was the first time in his life Sacha had ever attempted any kind of up-front apology, the first time he’d ever actually tried to face something with words instead of fists.

Shit, had they both really changed that much?

"Fuck," Sacha cursed under his breath. He bit his lip, trying to think of something to say, embarrassed as fuck, because Aleks was right, he wasn’t himself. "Look, I'm sorry, ok? After I got back, I--" He paused, realizing he'd never say any phrase like "I’m sorry" before he met Ethan.

"I just, got caught up in things. I didn't have the time... I didn't know where you lived or how to contact you--" His hands hung up at his sides in a useless gesture of helplessness as his words were drowned out by sheer repulsion of himself. He couldn't let himself spit out any more lies. He shut his mouth.

 

Aleks couldn’t look at him. Sacha could bullshit all he wanted, but Aleks knew that he'd just forgotten about him. He shouldn't be surprised, really. Aleks was never really that important to Sacha. He was just a street rat, another orphan, someone smaller and insignificant. All those years they spent together, Aleks was just a tool, someone for Sacha to turn to when he got bored with the big kids. Sacha was always above him, always there to boss him around, but he was the only one who paid any attention to Aleks. He clung to Sacha out of some misplaced need to feel like he existed. There were times when Aleks could almost believe that Sacha cared, but he knew he was never truly valued as a friend. Yet here he was, standing in Aleks' apartment, trying to make up excuses and apologize.

The thought made Aleks sour. He wanted to shove Sacha up against the wall and hold a knife to his throat. The same knives Sacha had given him when they were just kids, the ones he taught him how to hold and throw. The memory of Sacha's hands closed around his as he showed him how to kill made his mind writhe with agony.

He wanted to yell at Sacha to get the hell out, to leave him alone and forget about him. He was a different person now, and Sacha still expected him to be the needy, vulnerable kid he was 4 years ago. He didn't need Sacha's pity and he didn't need Sacha.

"Myshonok."  
  
The sudden softness of Sacha's voice caught Aleks off-guard, almost causing him to drop the boxes of cheap non-perishables he was holding. He froze as he heard Sacha's footsteps behind him, coming closer, and he knew what was going to happen.  
  
"Don't you fucking touch me."

The footsteps halted. Aleks was shaking, his voice a low whisper, his neck tensed up as he fought the urge to swing a blow at the man behind him. It was stupid of Sacha, stupid to think that Aleks would accept him after all this time, after forgetting about him, after leaving him behind in the dust like the street rat he was.

"Aleks, I'm not going to hurt you."

Aleks’ heart froze at that line. Was Sacha stupid? Aleks was already broken. Even if Sacha wanted to, he couldn’t hurt Aleks any more than he already had. He still thought Aleks was afraid, instead of just numb.  
  
Aleks turned his head slowly, his expression unreadable. His gaze would only go so far as Sacha's feet, one a few inches in front of the other, paused mid-step.

"You... fucking fool," escaped from Aleks' lips before he could stop it. His voice was shaking now that his vision was blurred. This should have been the most humiliating thing that had happened in his life, but instead he just felt desperate. He was folded in Sacha's arms before he could step away in protest.

"Let go of me," he whispered.  
  
"No."

The tears spilled down Aleks' cheeks when his face contorted with uncontrollable emotion. He stayed frozen, not returning Sacha's affections, prisoner to the man who had forgotten his past and just remembered it. A squeak slipped through Aleks' lips as he took a shuddering breath to quell his tears. Sacha's arms felt tighter.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Aleks couldn't tell whether he was shaking from rage or something else, something deeper. "You just... you don't know when to fucking stop, Sacha..."

"I'm sorry," was all Sacha said, his voice quiet and rumbling, just how Aleks remembered when his words were meant to be sincere.

"I fucking hate you." Aleks whispered, his eyes wide, watching as wet droplets formed on the counter in front of him, unable to distinguish between the tears and the rain that had begun to fall softly through the open window.

"I know."

Aleks didn't know how long he let Sacha stand there in silence, clutching him, trying to bring back the past. He merely listened to the rain as it fell and let the cold fingers of wind brush his face. He didn't know if Sacha thought it was comforting to him. He didn't know if Sacha was comforted by it. All he could feel were Sacha’s arms, that should have felt soft and shielding, but just felt like rough twine, barbed wire cutting into his skin. The longer they stood there, the colder Aleks felt, no longer sure if it was from the wind, or from Sacha’s presence sucking the life from his body.

"Sacha," he whispered.

"Mysh," came a barely audible response.

"It’s getting cold."

Sacha's arms slowly loosened around him and withdrew, Sacha stepping back as Aleks moved forward and shut the window briskly. He hesitated to watch the raindrops hit the window, like he used to do when he was alone, when he was remembering someone.

Sacha was looking at him when he turned, his face soft and relaxed, black eyes glistening with a look of longing, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his beat-up jeans. Aleks thought his own eyes must be rimmed with red and shining with tears, and dropped his gaze the instant he met Sacha's. Even Aleks, wrought with deep rage, couldn’t bring himself to tell Sacha what had happened, not when he was standing there, pleading like a wounded animal.

Neither of them spoke for a few long moments, Aleks looking at the floor, trying to figure out what he should do. He couldn't sort out his feelings.

"You can stay." He couldn't look at Sacha as he choked out the words. "For a few days, then you're gone." He swept past Sacha and into the bedroom, closing the door and locking it, the rest of his belongings left forgotten on the kitchen counter.

***

 

When Aleks emerged from his restless sleep, it was nearly noon. Unforgiving sunlight streamed through the ratty blinds over his window, never quite dark enough to keep out even the city lights at night. Aleks pushed himself up and off the bed, pausing briefly, recalling everything that had happened the day before. He wondered whether Sacha was out there, lounging on the couch as if nothing had happened, no time had passed, or if he’d come to his senses and bolted. Either way, Aleks figured, he could blame Sacha for being the same selfish person he was.

When he opened the door, an oddly familiar aroma greeted him. He looked around the kitchen, now seeing that the groceries he’d left out were gone, some of them organized neatly on the counter. There was a fresh pot of coffee brewing in the old machine Aleks had gotten all those years ago. He walked over, holding his hand a few inches from the glass of the pitcher, still hot.

There was a note beside it, just a small square of paper. It read “Мышонок”.

Aleks’ fingers hesitated over it. Half of him wanted to rip it in half and throw it out the window; almost certain Sacha must be pretending to care. But he took it and flipped it over, the words still forming in his head using Sacha’s low, rumbling Russian tongue. “ _Went to get my stuff from Ethan. I’ll be staying in a motel nearby. Here’s the address, if you want to drop by—I’ve got something for you. I’m sorry for the intrusion. Enjoy the coffee_.”

Aleks took note of the address scrawled at the end of the message. He set the note back down, finding new anger gripping him. Sacha knew how much he loved coffee, ever since they were kids. He found it incredulous that Sacha could completely forget he existed for four years, yet he was able to recall all these tiny details about him. In the back of his mind, a thought blossomed. “What if he didn’t forget…? But then, why?”

Aleks let out a sigh, opening a cabinet to take out a mug. He hesitated when he saw the perfectly organized cabinets full of the groceries he’d left out, realizing Sacha must have put them away for him before he left. Aleks pushed past the boxes and took out his favorite mug, filling it with the rich coffee, took it into his room and sat, holding it and feeling its warmth. He looked down into the black liquid, seeing his faint reflection staring back at him, wondering if Sacha saw someone else in those eyes.

Someone who could forgive.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Translation footnotes:
> 
> Мышонок : (Myshonok), little mouse
> 
> Саща: Sacha


End file.
